One Of The Guys
by OogieBoogie
Summary: Hermione Granger is sick of being treated like 'one of the guys' by every single male she has ever met. She turns to Draco Malfoy for help. Call it lessons to 'woman up', if you may.
1. Chapter 1

**Written as a present to myself for my birthday! Enjoy, teehee!**

**Rated M for later chapters.**

Ron had thumped her on the back – for the billionth time during their conversation with Harry. Hermione mentally reminded herself to not be surprised to see Ron's red handprints on her back and all over her shoulder the next morning. Ron's grip was positively bruising.

Great, she was marked – but not in a romantic way (love bites, etc.), sadly.

"Yeah, man, you're right!" Ron laughed at what Hermione had said, following his hard thumps.

There was that word, again. _Man_.

Honestly, does she look like a man? Does she talk or act like one? Hermione huffed indignantly in her head.

"But," Hermione said immediately shook off Ron's painful ministrations, to add "I honestly thought that the Harpies actually stood a chance against Cannons, you know, what with the close call with the snitch."  
"No, _man_!" Harry protested passionately, accidentally sloshing some of his wine in the process.

This time, Hermione was sure she flinched visibly.  
Harry paid no notice. Instead, he continued defending the Cannons' victory but Hermione tuned him out, and stole glances at her friend and Harry's current fiancée, Ginny Weasley and Ron's current girlfriend, Lavender Brown.

There they were, perched at the dining table in The Burrow, giggling heinously at something the other had said and making gentle waves with their hands as they tried to describe something. Hermione looked them both over – Ginny with her flaming red hair falling gracefully down her back, Lavender's blonde tresses shaping her lovely face … both were wearing effeminate colours, Ginny was wearing a pastel pink dress that showed off her curves greatly (or lack thereof, but Hermione didn't want to be mean), and Lavender was wearing, ironically, a lavender blouse that also fitted her form nicely and tight jeans that showed off her rather well-endowed bottom.

Hermione caught her own reflection at mirror not too far from her and she looked at herself. She had tamed her curly chestnut curls, it was no longer frizzy, and she had miraculously developed a rather girly fashion sense after leaving Hogwarts. If anything, she was a _woman_ with _womanly _bits – the only thing puzzling her until this day (even her prodigious brain can't seem to figure it out), is the fact that every man, especially her best friend Harry and the other best friend slash ex-boyfriend Ron, seem to treat her like a man. The way they speak to her, the way they see her … It was as if she was the only one who sees herself as she is – a woman, and that everybody else sees her as a man … a guy … a _dude_!

She doesn't even possess a certain part of anatomy on a male that would categorise her as a man, for crying out loud! Well, two, if you include the prominent Adam's apple. And oh yes, a shallow mind-set.

While staring at the ladies in contempt (where had that come from?) she noticed Ron had disappeared from her side to go talk to Lavender, and was now busy caressing her face gently as she pouted and protested weakly at something Ron had said, making Ron grin fondly in return.

She fumed at the sight.

_Of course_ she was jealous. _Of course _she wanted to be in Lavender's place. _Of course _she still wanted Ron – after their messy breakup because of his attraction to Lavender, Hermione had developed an issue with her self-image.

And _of course_ she was entirely aware that she had the same thing Lavender had that Ron truly cared about – breast and arse!

Really, what was missing?

She stared down at her shoes. Was it her voice? Her vibe in general? Her thoughts? Her opinions?

She was shaken out of her reverie rather painfully, by Ron's very painfully hooking his arm around her neck and Ron positively jumping into her as if trying to go through her.

"Where's Harry?" Ron almost-shouted in her ear.  
"I don't know, Ron," she shrugged, noting Harry's absence.

"Why are you looking sad, mate? Something bothering you?"  
"Nope, not at all."  
"Great! Do you want to join us later at the pub?"  
"Who is 'us'?" She questioned him.

"Harry, me, Seamus, Dean … Just us guys," he answered.

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows.  
"All guys?"  
"Yep!"  
"Ah, no, I don't think so … I mean it's an all-guys thing, right? I wouldn't want to be a bother."  
"Nonsense! Come on, 'Mione, you know you're like one of us," he winked, and untangled his arm from her neck, "Don't need to be so awkward about it."

"I'll … I'll think about it," she sighed crestfallenly.

And think about it, she did.

She thought about it throughout dinner at The Burrow, and throughout the pub session, until she fell asleep and until she went to work the next day.

She was staring into space, thinking about _what was wrong with her. _

"_You're so cool to talk to … you think exactly like I do!"  
"Wow! You're the first girl I've ever felt comfortable with!"  
"You're amazing, I feel like I'm not even talking to a girl – I feel like I'm meeting my old best friend!"_

Gathering the past conversations she's had with men before, she worked herself into a sour mood, so much so that she didn't notice when someone entered her office. Snapping out of her reverie, her eyes focused on the intruder.

"Before you start complaining, I did knock. Five times," came the voice of Draco Malfoy.  
"Oh, I'm sorry, Malfoy," she said meekly, "I was just … lost in thought."  
"Yes, I would say unfamiliar territory, but I think it wouldn't work on you," Malfoy jibed good-naturedly, "Probably would have worked on Potter or Weasley."

Hermione laughed at this and regarded Malfoy. They had become civil after Hogwarts and had to be even friendlier after knowing that they were working in the same department in the Ministry – what used to be plain high-school rivalry had turned into friendly rivalry within the walls of the Ministry.

"What do you need, Malfoy?" she asked.  
"I was just reminding you to have that case on Pomona Reid by tomorrow, I need it," he said.  
"Oh, right – I almost forgot. Here you are," Hermione waved her wand and a file from her desk flew towards Malfoy.  
"Much thanks," he said without a hint of sincerity, catching it and peering into the file. Satisfied, he nodded and looked up at her, "Well then, I'm off."

"Okay," she said, ready to resume her lost-in-thought position again.

Silence.

"If you don't mind me asking, what has got you so bugged, Granger?" Malfoy's amused voice startled her again. "I doubt you would be looking like this, unless you're trying to figure out what you liked about Weasley during Hogwarts."

She hadn't realized that he was still there, standing at her doorway.

"Huh? Nothing … just … something really unimportant," she said lamely.  
He raised both his eyebrows and shrugged, reaching for the knob and meaning to close the door.

"Malfoy …" Hermione began, still half-lost in thought.  
"Granger."  
"Do you … do you think I'm pretty?" She asked quietly.

There was a pause.

Hermione looked at him.

Malfoy looked at her seriously and then said, "I think you're a very beautiful woman, Granger." He gave her a nod and shut the door.

Hermione smiled.

_Malfoy said I'm a very beautiful woman … very beautiful! Not just pretty or sexy or anything – but beautiful! And he said I was –_

"A woman?!" Hermione's eyes widened, "Draco Malfoy is the only man I know who sees me as a woman, really?!"

The wheels in her mind were turning wildly.

She scrambled out of her chair and the desk and opened the door strong enough to rip it off the wall, and caught a flash of white-blonde hair down the corridor.

"Malfoy!" she called out to him.

He stopped in his tracks and could hear him sigh from the other end of the corridor. He turned towards her, looking mildly annoyed, "What is it this time, Granger? Fishing for more compliments?"

"No! Not at all, but umm, I have a favour to ask you," Hermione said as she rushed towards him.  
Malfoy looked at her coolly and kept his mouth shut, waiting for her to say something.

"I … I need you to teach me how to be a woman."

Malfoy raised a fine eyebrow.

"Excuse me?" he said.  
"I umm … have this problem where all the guys I know tend to say … that I'm like a guy to them … and it's frustrating really, so I … so," she stopped mid-rant, feeling her face heat up and knowing that she was red as a tomato. She had blurted out her dilemma to Draco Malfoy!

"And you think I'm the best person to help you?" Malfoy said calmly, "I'm sorry, but do I look like a woman to you?"  
"No, that's not what I meant, Malfoy, you git!"  
"What is it then?" Malfoy said, irritation lacing his voice, "You don't really need help, you know, you already have the necessary assets to pass off as a woman!"

"It's just that – it's the first time in so many, many years that someone had actually called me a woman, much more that you see me as a woman," she blushed, "I just need … you to help me shine more, as a woman …"  
Malfoy kept quiet for a while.

"Malfoy?" Hermione pressed.

"Well, well, well," he smirked, reminding Hermione of the smirk he used to give everyone else in Hogwarts, "Fancy some bloke, Granger?"  
"Yes," she answered immediately without thinking.  
"What am I getting in return?" He asked, ever the Malfoy.  
"We can discuss that later, after you've agreed," Hermione answered smartly.  
"Very well, I agree. Who is the bloke?"

Hermione bit her lip.

"Ron."  
"You're joking."

**Reviews are much appreciated! **

**3**


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry for the delayed update – wasn't able to login for quite a while until it miraculously worked today. Enjoy! **

**Warning: excessive use of the F word *wink wink* but you like it.**

"By Merlin, Weasley is dafter than I had originally thought," Malfoy's perfect eyebrows knitted together in befuddlement.

Hermione sent him a questioning look.

"I mean, look at you, with those enormous babalons hanging off your chest!" Malfoy said dramatically, gesturing around his chest area.  
Hermione made an affronted noise, arms immediately covering her front area in a protective manner.

"Oh, please, Granger," he rolled his eyes. Hermione shook her head, going back to her lunch, "If I found you attractive, I'm pretty sure you wouldn't have problems trying to snag Weasley back."

Hermione ignored him and continued munching on her food.

"But seriously," Malfoy leaned forwards, almost as if whatever he was about to say to Hermione was top-secret, "Weasley is the ultimate example of that whoever created us surely has a sense of humour. Was he dropped as a child?"  
"Stop being so mean," she gave him a pointed look.

Malfoy threw his head back and laughed, slapping his knee in the process, showing his mirth. Hermione just watched him through narrowed lids and waited for him to stop and calm down.

"Now that's done and over with, I still have abso-fucking-lutely no idea why you still want the git," Malfoy drawled.  
Hermione just smirked at him and offered no answer.

Malfoy sighed dramatically for the umpteenth time since their lunch-date-meeting-arrangement-shit and procured a piece of paper from his robes and slid it across the table towards her.

"What the hell is this?" Hermione demanded.  
"'What the hell is this', she says, hmph," Malfoy rolled his eyes _again, for the umpteenth time _that Hermione feared it might get stuck.

She unfolded the paper and her eyes landed on the elegant script sprawled all over it.

**Make-over**

**Make-up**

**Clothes (including push-up bras, more revealing outfits, less frumpy-Granger-outfits).**

**Sexy negligee**

**Heels**

**Perfume (absolute seductive smell)**

**Tears**

"What the hell is this?" she repeated.  
"Think of it as a guideline, or a checklist, if you may," Malfoy explained, examining his perfectly manicured nails.  
"And this is supposed to help me win Ron over?" Hermione said, staring at the paper in deep concentration.

"Abso-fucking-lutely," Malfoy nodded, and smiled smugly.  
"Is that your favourite word, Malfoy?"  
"Abso-fucking-lutely."

Hermione sighed heavily and said, "Alright, when do we start?"  
"Right the fuck away, straight after work," Malfoy said nonchalantly.  
"I'm beginning to think that 'fuck' is your favourite word after all."  
"Why, Granger, how presumptuous of you. On the contrary, fuck is not my favourite word," he said as he stood up, "It's my favourite thing to do."

He winked and strode towards their office like he owned the bloody place. Hermione just shook her head.

**x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x.**

"So tell me something, Malfoy. How long before this completely works and I really do win Ron over? If I do win him over?" Hermione muttered bitterly towards the end of her sentence.

"You will win him over Granger, especially if I _help_. And give or take, less than one week."  
"_One week?!_" Hermione screeched, almost rivalling a banshee.  
"Quiet, Granger. It's bad enough that I'm seen in public with you, I don't want them to think I'm in the company of a ghastly supernatural being."  
"But, _Malfoy -_" she protested.  
"But nothing, _Granger_."  
"You're ridiculous. One week isn't enough to win someone over!" Hermione hissed.  
"Yes, it is. I have never lost a bet and I bet you Ron will fall arse-over-tit in love with you within a week. Trust me."

Before she could protest any further, Malfoy had none-too-gently pushed her into a building – which, she only realized after she stepped into, was a mall in Muggle London. Malfoy clearly knew his shit because they were immediately on the right floor, which was the Women's section. It was filled with _'women stuff' _(according to Draco), ranging from makeup, to clothes, lingerie, shoes and nightwear. It was as if Malfoy planned out his list with this specific place in mind.

"First stop, we need to do something about your face," Malfoy said matter-of-factly, ignoring Hermione's bristling as she was steered by the shoulders by Malfoy right to a makeup outlet.  
"I'll try to not get offended with what you just said, Malfoy," Hermione said icily.  
"Oh, come now, Granger. You know you love me like that."  
Hermione muttered something under her breath and Malfoy didn't even bother asking her about it. Instead, he just stepped up to the store assistant, who had been evidently checking Malfoy out since she spotted him a while ago.

"I need you to teach her how to look pretty," Malfoy told her, gesturing towards Hermione's face, "She needs it, desperately, if you can't tell."  
Hermione resisted kicking him in the nuts for that, but was too distracted by the way the lady was making cow eyes at him.

Hermione smiled wryly and looked away. She wasn't the least bit surprised. If she was, well, _not Hermione_, and if he wasn't such a bastard to her, even she would admit that he was sex-on-legs. With that my-hair-just-rolled-out-of-bed idea that he stole from Harry Potter and turned it into a whole new sexy style, and with the lynx-like grace that he possessed no matter what he did, Malfoy was hot stuff.

Hermione bet he could even sneeze and make it look really graceful. He was near-perfect, which was saying a lot. But he was a bastard, which pretty much takes precedence over everything else.

"Wife?" the lady inquired innocently, batting her eyelashes at Malfoy.  
Malfoy threw his head back and laughed again, "Oh, you're very funny. But no, she's not. She's merely a disgruntled colleague with a lot of self-esteem issues. It's obvious why."

Hermione glared daggers at him, "Malfoy, one more insulting word and you will be saying your free dinner in Paris goodbye."  
Malfoy immediately made an imitation of pulling a zipper across his lips and crossing his chest.

"Thought so," Hermione nodded. "That's what we agreed on. You help me, and I take you for dinner in Paris whenever you like. We didn't agree on you helping me, then insult me at every turn and I _still _take you out for dinner. So, Draco, _help me help you."_

Malfoy rolled his eyes at that and spoke to the attendant, "Make it quick. We're on a rather tight schedule."  
"Of course, sir," the attendant batted her eyelashes at him again, and Malfoy smiled charmingly.

The makeover session was agonizing. The attendant had pressed stuff into her eyes so hard, as if trying to poke her eyeballs out with the brushes, which left Hermione's eyes completely watery and irritated. Hermione figured that wasn't attractive at all from the looks Malfoy was giving her.

Despite the _politeness _and _gentleness _of the attendant, the end-product was quite unbelievable. Hermione Granger had turned into a frumpy no-makeup-on-all-the-bloody-time into classically stunning beauty. She had approved of this look while she examined at herself in the mirror, and she caught Malfoy giving her an approving look as well.

"That's exactly it. You want your eyes to look stunning and your lips to look really kissable without trying too hard. Don't go overboard though, you might end up looking like a slag. Which, in Weasley's books, is most attractive, but we're trying to preserve your dignity here, Granger."

Hermione never took the effort to make herself up. It was because she believed that it was all going to come off anyway, and one way or another the guy will _inevitable _see what's underneath. But then again, men … Men like what they see.

While Malfoy charmingly thanked the attendant, she proceeded to give him a strip of paper (which, obviously, had her number in it). Malfoy politely accepted and pocketed it. He had then asked the woman to help Hermione pick out the replica of the products used on her to be purchased, but Hermione ended up doing it herself – constantly looking back and forth between the mirror and the makeup range to check the similarity – as the woman was clearly _busy _with sex-on-legs Draco-bloody-Malfoy.

Just as Hermione was about to take out her purse to pay the bill, Malfoy stopped her.  
"No, no, Granger! Let me," he said, taking out one of his gold-plated cards and handing it to the cashier – who was always eyeing him lustily.

"But why?"  
"I'm helping you, remember? So let me deal with the process. _Help me help you_," he mimicked.

Hermione had wondered when she had stopped getting annoyed with his antics and started to find them endearing – or maybe it was her brain unable to take anymore of Malfoy's rubbish so it just chose to ignore him.

They left the store in a hurry, with the previous attendant yelling out, "Call me!"

Their next stop was a women's clothing store. Malfoy, to her surprise, marched right up to the store and demanded for the sexiest lingerie, casual wears and office wears available. At his authoritative manner, everybody jumped into action, bustling left and right while Malfoy examined his hair in the mirror.

They took Hermione's measurements and her bust size and presented every single article of clothing to Malfoy.

"That, that, that … that, that, _ugh, not that_, that," he pointed, "And this one, definitely this one. This one, and the basic black. That would be all."

She was then ushered into the fitting room, where she tried every single piece of clothing, to find that she wasn't exactly disappointed. Malfoy clearly had taste. She agreed on every article of clothing, except for the push-up bras that he insisted she match with every outfit.  
"Because Weasley is easily fooled by what he sees and likes," Malfoy had explained briefly. Hermione had just shrugged him off and brought the whole bundle to the attendant, who proceeded to pack it all up for her. Malfoy flashed his bright and shiny card and his bright and shiny smile again and they left for the next stop.

"Heels. We need to get you out of those boring librarian's-grandmother's-old-shoes-when-she-was-also-a-librarian almost-heels that you insist on wearing every day," Malfoy said.  
"But they're comfortable."  
"I know, but Weasley probably doesn't give a shit," he said simply, and that effectively shut Hermione up.

"But what do you think, Malfoy?" Hermione had asked after a while.  
"I think a woman is beautiful when she's comfortable in her own skin," he answered.  
"I am comfortable in my own skin."  
"But this is Weasley we're talking about. He wouldn't know beauty unless it danced naked in front of him and slapped him in the face. Which is _exactly _what you're going to do."

Hermione's eyes widened at that.  
"I'm going get dance naked in front of him and slap him in the face?"

"Oh, silly _silly_ Granger," Malfoy smiled a little, "Of course not. That was just a figure of speech. Unless you think winning Weasley over would be easier that way, then by all means!"

They walked into the shoe store, and Hermione's eyes were presented with the sluttiest heels she had ever seen in her entire life.

"Ugh!" Hermione scrunched up her nose in distaste.  
"My thoughts exactly," Malfoy said as he pulled her inside towards the more elegant/classy/tasteful section.  
"Much better," Hermione nodded.

"Sit down and try these on," Malfoy almost-commanded and handed her a classic pointy-heeled pair of shoes.  
It fit her perfectly, and it looked elegant and sexy at the same time.

Malfoy picked another one and handed it to her, this time a strappy one. She tried it on and she immediately was met by approving looks from Malfoy.

"We'll take both," he had said to the attendant – who, also (to Hermione's exasperation) was checking him out ever since he walked in.

"Both?" Hermione asked, "Why not just take the classic black ones?"  
"They both suit you. But the second one … you have nice feet, Granger. Best show them off since you have it."

Malfoy did his flashing-of-card-and-smile before leaving the store.

"What's next?" Malfoy asked, while carrying half the load of the shopping they had done that day.  
"Perfume."  
"Ah, right. Most essential."

They walked into a perfume shop and Malfoy demanded for something specific again.

"Give me something with _vanilla_ in it."  
"Vanilla, really?" Hermione asked.  
"Yes, Granger. Vanilla is one of the most appealing smells according to men, and I wholeheartedly agree with it. It smells absolutely divine."  
"Let's try it then," she said, as the attendant handed her a strip of perfumed paper.

Hermione inhaled and almost moaned and salivated simultaneously. It was a weird sensation. It was as if she smelt the most delicious thing in the world. No wonder Malfoy liked the smell. It was _mouth-watering_.

"Do you see what I mean now?" Malfoy asked, to which she responded with a vigorous nod and a dreamy glaze over her eyes. Malfoy shook his head and they purchased it.

"I believe we're done with the preparations, are we not?" he said.  
Hermione procured the paper and glanced at the last line on the list.

"Tears. That doesn't make sense. Is that even purchasable?"  
"Don't be silly, Granger. Before I explain it to you, we must sit down and have dinner. I don't know about you, but shopping with a woman wears me out completely."  
"I don't know if you've noticed but I wasn't exactly the one that was doing most of the shopping, you were. I was just chaperoning," Hermione retorted.

Malfoy gave her a haughty glance and sniffed in response.

They sat down at a quaint Italian restaurant and had dinner.

"So, tears," Hermione started.  
"Oh, yes. The deadliest weapon. If this doesn't work then I have to hand it to Weasley, he's the most hard-to-please man on the planet if he's able to refuse you after that. Be the manipulative creature that you are."

Hermione waited patiently, twirling her spaghetti around her fork.

"Men, as you probably already know, are completely weak against tears. It's amazing. I can't even begin to grasp the logic behind it, but that's just it. If all else fails, just cry. Come on; give me your best dramatic-crying look, Granger. Manipulate me."

Hermione looked blankly at him, eyes wide as saucers and jaw slack.

"By Merlin, Granger, that's terrible. Is that the best you could do?" Malfoy frowned, "Even I could do better than that, I think, and that's saying something – seeing as how I'm always calm and cool and composed and all."

Malfoy, Hermione thought, likes the sound of his own voice too much, but Hermione also found that she didn't mind it at all. She had caught herself admitting to that many times tonight and it was beginning to scare her. Perhaps Malfoy was an acquired taste.

"I don't see how that will possibly help," Hermione said.  
"Trust me, Granger. If the heels, the face, the clothes and the smell don't have any effect on him, the tears will _most certainly _stir something within him. And that's the protective bullshit that men have embedded in them. It will work. Think of it as your last resort, yeah? See how much power of manipulation women have over men?"

"Alright, but I can't cry on cue," she replied.  
"Shame. I would have loved to see you all snotty and teary-eyed," he sighed.  
"Not in a million years, Malfoy."

"So what is your itinerary for this week?" Malfoy pushed his clean plate aside and listened to her intently.  
"Well … tomorrow's Wednesday so the boys have this 'pool night' after dinner where they just gather at a random bar and play pool for a couple of hours with a couple of beers."  
"Oh, and they totally drag you into it?"  
"Oh yes, I'm quite good at pool because of it. Beat all of them most of the time."

"I'm impressed, Granger," Malfoy nodded approvingly, then quickly shook his head, "But that tactic won't work on incompetent people like Weasley. You need to weaken yourself up, pretend to miss all the balls and not know how to hold the cue stick. Bend over in a mini skirt. Stuff like that."

"That almost sounds disgusting."  
"It's what the man of your dreams likes."  
"Hmph."

"So tell you what, I'll be over tomorrow at let's saying, eight – and I'll help you figure out your clothing and what-have-you to make sure he feels like he just got slapped in the face with a cue stick."

"Okay. But before I forget, Malfoy, I just want to thank you," Hermione said and grabbed Malfoy's hand across the table. He looked at her in surprise. "I had a great time tonight."

Malfoy's features softened a little and he sniffed to cover it up.  
"Of course you would. Anyone would feel that way around me."

Hermione rolled her eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

"You're early, Malfoy," Hermione commented as she stepped aside to allow Malfoy early, who was half an hour early.

"Of course, I have to make sure my lab rat is all prepped and groomed for her first mission tonight," he said gleefully.  
"Have you had dinner?" she asked.  
"Why, yes, I have. Thank you for asking, Granger," he sent her a small smile, "I didn't know you cared."  
"Well … why should I? We're friends, aren't we?" Hermione asked timidly.  
"Are we?" One of Malfoy's perfect eyebrows arched up, but there was a sliver of something that flitted across his eyes for a moment – something akin to hope.

Hermione looked up at him.  
"Well, we should be if we aren't by now," she said honestly, "I quite like you."  
Malfoy grinned, for the first time didn't say something predictable such as 'of course, who wouldn't like me?'

"So let's see, what have you decided to wear tonight?"

Hermione led him into her bedroom where she had laid out the clothes she had planned to wear.

"Well, this blouse definitely … but I can't decide between matching it with the jeans, the skirt or the mini-mini skirt. Maybe I should wear pants after all, since we're playing pool …"  
"No, Granger. You wear the skirt. Don't you remember what I said yesterday? Bend over, pretend to not know shit. Can't bloody well entice with those fabulous legs of yours if they're hidden by pants, can you?"

"Oh, right," Hermione frowned, "But at least you think I have fabulous legs, it's a start, isn't it?"  
"Y-yeah," Malfoy said meekly.

Hermione had immediately gone to pick out the mini-mini skirt, but Malfoy stopped her.  
"Not that one, Granger. The other one. Remember, we are still trying to preserve you, not turn you into a complete slag."  
"Right, right," Hermione huffed and grabbed the clothing and proceeded to change in the bathroom while Malfoy waited on her bed.

She emerged a while later, and immediately an open, honest smile graced Malfoy's features.

"Beautiful," he had said.  
"Really, you think so?" She smiled.  
"I mean, beautiful enough for Weasley, for sure," he nodded and cleared his throat.

"Thank you Draco, I will let you know what happens tomorrow morning at the office!" Hermione threw her arms around a surprised Malfoy's neck and pecked him on the cheek. She Disapparated quickly after, leaving a stunned Malfoy in her wake.

**x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x.**

Hermione entered the office with a bright smile on her face the next day.

Malfoy glanced up at her nauseatingly happy smile and rolled his eyes, turning back to his work.

He took a deep breath and asked exasperatedly, "I take it the pool night went well?"  
"Extremely! He couldn't keep his eyes off me the entire night. I even did that bend-over-and-pretended-to-not-know-anything like you said and it worked. He even got to smell me, and he was positively drooling. Ha! I bet even Lavender doesn't smell like that. You're a genius, Draco."

Malfoy frowned a bit at that, and Hermione wondered if it was because she had just called him _Draco_ or because of something else.

"That's good."  
"He's coming over for dinner tonight!" Hermione giggled, "So I figured I should try the wear-negligee-at-home-and-open-the-door-and-tell-Ron-I-didn't-have-time-to-change-so-this-is-all-I-have-on tactic – wow that's a mouthful."

Malfoy made a hummed response.

"So which one do you think I should wear tonight, the red or the blue negligee?"  
"Whichever," he replied haughtily.

Hermione frowned.  
"Are you alright?"  
"I'm fine, Granger."  
"Okay. Do you want to come over before he does tonight?"  
"No, I don't think so. I've got loads of work to do, and it seems like you have it all covered," Malfoy said, not even bothering to look up from his writing.  
"Oh, alright then," Hermione cast a sidelong glance at him and sat at her desk.

They sat in silence for the rest of the day before Hermione said she had to go home and get ready. Malfoy said nothing.

**x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x.**

"I feel like it isn't working well enough … because during the dinner last night, he seemed reluctant, as if he still isn't sure about choosing Lavender or me. So, I figured – since we have the Friday night outing for drinks tomorrow, I should take you as my pretend-date … you know, just to spur him on a bit. What do you think?" Hermione asked politely the next day, perched lightly atop Malfoy's desk.

"Granger, you're delirious. Why would I spend my Friday night with a bunch of Gryffindors. I don't like them one bit. And they don't like me."  
"But I like you," Hermione said wide-eyed and honest, squeezing Malfoy's hand.

"That doesn't count. We're partners."  
"I know, so won't it be better this way? They wouldn't suspect us of plotting something. I just have to pretend to be interested in you, and you have to pretend to be interested in me."

Malfoy rolled his eyes and sighed.  
"I'm going to order extra desert in Paris," Malfoy said finally.  
"Anything you want, Malfoy," Hermione beamed and squeezed his hand again before jumping off his desk and slumping into her own.

"Am I still coming over to choose your outfit for the night?" Malfoy drawled as if it was the last thing he wanted to do, but Hermione didn't miss the curl of his lips, forming a small smile.

"Oh yes, you know it!"

**x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x.**

Hermione looked at her reflection for the billionth time before she heard an audible groan coming from her living room.

"Come on, Granger, hurry the fuck up."  
"But I'm worried with -"  
"You look amazing, Granger, come on."

Hermione sped out of her room and latched onto Malfoy's arm before they Disapparated.

They arrived at the club a second later, with Hermione still latched onto Malfoy's arm as they made their way inside. They immediately spotted the Gryffindor bunch as they started waving as soon as they walked in.

"Let's go," Hermione said excitedly.  
"Hmph," Malfoy groaned weakly.

"Hello, guys!" Hermione greeted.  
"Hey, 'Mione," Harry kissed her cheek and nodded to Malfoy, "Malfoy."  
"Potter, Weasley, Thomas, Finnigan, Weasley, Lovegood and … Brown," Malfoy greeted them coolly.

They all nodded or said hey in return, but Hermione appeared to be bristling as she spotted Lavender Brown perched in Ron's lap.

"_Shit, fuck, twat_," she muttered under her breath, and grabbed a random drink from the table and swallowed it all in one gulp.  
Malfoy simply laughed a little and sat down next to her.

"You must be _livid_ that he brought her here," Malfoy whispered in her ear.  
"Extremely," she hissed into his ear.

"Well, you may as well continue talking to me like this because I sense his eyes on us and I can tell he doesn't like such … _close proximity_," Malfoy commented, pretending to stroke Hermione's neck.  
"That's very good. That means it's working. And you're a brilliant actor, Malfoy," Hermione giggled a little.

"Who said anything about acting?" Malfoy said seriously in an almost-whispering tone before closing in on her jaw and kissing it lightly.

Hermione immediately felt the goose bumps and a pleasant shiver run down her spine.

"Why, Malfoy, I thought you didn't like me," Hermione grinned.  
"Well, I only like you a tad better than the rest of the lot here," he answered, sipping on some unknown drink – and, having approved it, took another sip.

He was about to say something to Hermione, when Hermione also had the same idea and they almost knocked into each other – making it look like they planned to kiss. Both their eyes widened, but none as wide as Ron's, who was watching them with a furious expression on his face opposite them.

Malfoy and Hermione continued the facade, with whispers and too-close-leans, brushing of the hands – it was enough to drive Ron crazy after only an hour of watching.

Hermione was snapped out of her conversation with Malfoy when Ron grabbed her arm.

"'Mione, can I talk to you for a bit?" Ron asked.  
"Ron?" Lavender asked from her seat, looking a bit worried and suspicious.  
"This will just take a minute. I'm just asking 'Mione here for a dance."

Hermione glanced at Malfoy – who was back to nursing his drink, looking resolutely away from them - and back to Ron, who had a hopeful and determined expression on his face.

"Alright, Ronald," Hermione said, taking his hand and allowed herself to bed to the dance floor.

Malfoy refused to look at them, unaware of the burning feeling he felt in his gut and the ache in his chest. He could see that Hermione and the Weasel were dancing really close to each other, obviously because it was a slow number.

They most certainly took longer than a minute – Malfoy counted.

When Hermione came back, she was red in the face – blushing furiously.

"Look, I think I'm just going to head home. I'm knackered," Malfoy lied smoothly.  
"Aw, so soon?" Hermione complained.  
"Yes, Granger. Lovely to meet you all," he nodded to rest, who bade him goodbye.

Within seconds, Malfoy was out the door and was walking to the nearest Apparition point.

"Draco, wait!" called the voice of Hermione Granger.  
Malfoy shut his eyes, took a deep breath and turned around.

"Yes, Granger?"  
"I just … I just wanted to thank you … I mean, Ron said he'd come over tomorrow – he said he's regretted a lot of things and he wanted to tell me something important tomorrow … so I just wanted to thank you, for helping me. And congratulating you that it didn't take a week, only about … five days," Hermione laughed lightly.

"Right. Pleasure," Malfoy said coldly and walked away.  
"Pick my outfit tomorrow?" Hermione called out hopefully.  
Without turning around, Malfoy waved his hand and answered, "You're on your own this time, Granger!"

Malfoy Disapparated.

**x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x.**

"What the bleeding hell could she bloody well want now?" Draco snarled furiously as he read the parchment in his hands, before tossing it onto the table and running a hand through his hair.

_Draco,_

_Are you free? Come over? Something came up._

_Hermione._

He didn't want to go, he shouldn't have gone … but something was telling him to go anyway. He dressed up rather quickly, checked himself in the mirror and Floo'ed his way into Hermione's home.

He stumbled out of the fireplace and brushed Floo powder out of his clothes and straightened himself up.

"What is it now, Granger, I thought you had everything sorted out with -" He stopped mid-sentence, once he caught sight of Hermione cradling her whole face in her hands, sobbing her heart out at her dining table.

Draco's brow's furrowed. She was dressed up in the best-looking dress he had picked out for her, and those strappy heels that he insisted made her feet look amazing and from where he was standing, he could catch a whiff of vanilla that almost made his mouth water.

"Granger?" He called out, and she sobbed even harder. He approached her warily, and his eyes landed on a piece of parchment laid out on the table, with Ron's messy signature sprawled at the bottom of it.

His eyes narrowed.  
"What the fuck did he do now?" Draco hissed.  
"He – he," Hermione lifted her face a little and hiccupped lightly and tried to form a sentence through her tears, "He just sent it. He cancelled on me. Said that he – he c-c-couldn't do it. Can't leave L-lavender sodding Brown!"

Draco's face softened at her misery and grabbed the chair next to her and sat down, figuring out what to say to console the crying girl.

"Granger," he tried, but Hermione refused to look at him, "Hey, Granger."

Still, she refused to look at him. He sighed heavily and rubbed his face with his hand.

"Look, Granger, I know what it's like … trust me, but I don't think he deserved you in the first place," Draco blurted out honestly, "He's an idiot to let you go like that."

Hermione sobbed even harder.

"For fuck's sake, I'm making it worse," he muttered under his breath. He took a deep breath and sighed again, this time grasping Hermione's knee and squeezing it a little, "Hey … for what it's worth. I think you're amazing, and beautiful – with or without the whole getup and preparation for the Weasel thing. I mean, it's hard not to fall for you, Granger. And if it's any consolation, when you asked me to pretend to be interested in you … it wasn't that hard at all, really – it was natural. You're beautiful, Granger – and I mean it. If I were idiot Weasel I would have surely snagged you and made you mine long, long ago."

_That did it_, Draco thought.

Hermione had stopped crying but she still kept her face in her hands.

Draco squeezed her knee again, "Hey, Granger?"

Slowly, Hermione lifted her face from her hands. Draco's face softened, expecting to see a teary-eyed and snotty Hermione – whose tears he would have loved to kiss away – but _WHOA WHAT THE FUCK!_

Draco jerked back into his seat, completely taken aback with what he was looking at. Hermione's face wasn't teary-eyed, nor was it snotty. In fact, she wasn't crying at all. She was now sporting a devilish smirk worthy of a Malfoy.

"Granger, what the f -"  
Before he got to finish the sentence, Hermione had taken out her wand and muttered an incantation and directed it at him. She had acted so fast Draco didn't have time to blink.

"What -"  
"Shh, _Draco_," she purred, "It's my time to talk."

Draco tried to get up from his chair, but he found that he couldn't, it was as if he was frozen to his seat. Fuck, the blasted spell Hermione had muttered earlier!

Draco's brows knitted together – in worry, or fear – or both, he didn't know.

"What the fuck, Granger?" he hissed, struggling in his seat, but to no avail, "What's the meaning of this?"

Hermione stood up and Draco looked at her. He did have impeccable taste, as the long dress looked amazing on Hermione, as well as the strappy heels, and the smell of vanilla and Hermione's face and everything and _oh god – _

"I'm disappointed with you, Draco," Hermione smiled a little, before taking a step towards him.  
"What?" Draco narrowed his eyes, but it didn't last long before Hermione seated herself in his lap, straddling him with her hands on his shoulders. He was then looking at Hermione with wide eyes.

"G-Granger?" He tried.  
"Don't be scared, Draco," she whispered, her breath so painfully close it was practically mingling with his, "I won't hurt you or anything. I just wanted to get a few things out there."  
"Like what?" He began, but Hermione placed a finger on his lips with a quiet 'shh'.

"First of all, I have a confession to make," Hermione said, looking into his eyes silver eyes, "That's why I bound you to this chair, for fear that you would run out before I had a chance to explain."  
Draco scoffed, "Malfoys don't run!"

Hermione's eyes narrowed, "But they're not daring enough to take what they want, aren't they?"  
"Whatever do you mean, Granger?"  
"It's Hermione, Draco," Hermione purred again.  
Draco gulped audibly.

"You see, Draco," Hermione began, tracing Draco's nose with her fingers before moving to the sides of his face, stroking tenderly, "There was never a deal to win Ron over."  
"Huh?" Draco asked unintelligently, "Of course there was, I planned it out myself."  
"I know, I know, but that deal was between us both – and nobody else knew, right?"

Draco nodded.

"But I'm afraid that's not the truth. Truth is, everybody knew there was this so-called deal to 'win Ron over'. My original deal was to win _you _over."  
"_What?_" Now Draco was truly lost.

"I wanted you, silly. From the moment when you told me you thought I was a very beautiful woman – without me doing anything, without me putting up a front – you were honest, just like that. And I thought; only a true man and a true match for me would be able to say something like that to me."

At this point, Draco only opened and closed his mouth uselessly.

"And so, I wanted you. So I came up with this cunning plan, to pretend to want to win Ron over with your help. And throughout our meet-up sessions, I found that you, Draco Malfoy, obviously felt the same way about me, but refused to do anything about it!"

Draco gulped again and hoped that his flush wasn't noticeable.

"There were never any meet-ups with Ron, Draco, no sexy pool night, no candlelight dinner, no nothing. I just Apparated somewhere else and waited for time to pass before going home, all the while crafting stories for you the next day."

"A-and, the dance last night?" Draco asked curiously.  
"Oh, that, we were just talking about nonsense. Nothing important. After all, they all knew the plan and went along with it."

Draco shut his eyes and groaned, dropping his head onto Hermione's shoulder. Which was probably a mistake because he got a strong whiff of vanilla – so delicious so … so … so Hermione.

"I got fooled by a bunch of Gryffindors," he groaned again.  
Hermione laughed.

"Come on, Draco," she gently grabbed the sides of his face and looked straight into his eyes.

Draco kept quiet, refusing to say anything. He felt betrayed, dammit!

"You made sure that while 'transforming' me that I wouldn't lose part of who I already am – and made sure whatever I wore suited me best, suited Hermione best – not some skanky girl Ron likes, I mean look at his tastes. You preserved me. But it was rather obvious when your face fell at the mention of Ron's name, or when you thought we were going to reconcile. It was adorable, but it was rather annoying, how you didn't say anything about it, or acted on it."

Hermione sighed and smiled, stroking Draco's face again.

"But it's okay," she continued, "Now I have you right where I want you. I heard what I wanted to hear, and you said whatever you so stubbornly didn't want to say. So actually it took me six days to win you over, am I right?"

Draco was speechless.

"I know you didn't care about what I looked like in beginning, or what I wore – but I wore all this for you today. I saved the best for last, don't you think? I know you particularly liked this dress the most, the heels and let's not forget, the scent of vanilla which drives you completely barmy. You also forgot that while planning all this, you picked items for me according to what you like the most. And like your plan, I think every single bit worked on you, don't you think?"

Draco groaned in response. He practically handed all his secrets to her without knowing it.

"Face it, Draco," Hermione said in that purring tone of hers again, nose-to-nose with Draco, "You want me."  
"I do," he whispered. Hermione smiled and was about lean in and kiss him, but she was stopped.

"Wait," Draco said, "Release the spell."  
Hermione's brow furrowed – she was worried. Draco didn't release his gaze and waited patiently.  
Hermione worried her bottom lip, "You won't run away?"  
"I won't, Granger. Just release the spell."

She picked up her wand hesitantly and waved it while muttering the counter-spell.  
Draco lifted his hands and flexed them a little before meeting her suddenly nervous gaze again.

"There, you're free," she said timidly.  
Draco said nothing, he just lifted his hand wound it at the back of Hermione's neck and brought her head closer.

"Come here, Granger," he said, placing his lips on hers and kissing her passionately. The kiss was so intense and heated that Hermione had to wound her arms around his neck to keep her from falling off his lap. But she needn't have worried, because as soon as she felt giddy and weak from the kiss, strong arms wound behind her back and pulled her closer, flush against Draco. They kissed for long moments, savouring the taste and feel of each other.

Draco pulled away and nudged his nose against hers.  
"I'm still angry that I got fooled by a bunch of Gryffindors."  
"No, not really, Draco, you only got fooled by a real woman."

What can Hermione say? After all, Draco made her feel like a natural woman. And like he said, she must make use of her womanly manipulating skills to get what she wants. *wink*

**FIN! **


End file.
